Blind
by Our-Lady-B o n b o n
Summary: Mustering the coldest glare I could produce, I mouthed three words to him..."I hate you."... Without waiting for his reaction, I turned around...And left. LxOC . Please R&R!
1. Prologue

_A/N: Hello there everyone. This is my first ever Death Note fan fiction, and I'm still relatively new to the anime; therefore please forgive me for any mistakes I may have made. If any in particular bother you, just tell me through a REVIEW or a PM (Private message). Thankyou._

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Disclaimer: Death Note © Takeshi Obata & Tsugumi Ohba

Blind © Our-Lady-B O N B O N

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_Blind…..a Death Note fanfiction_

_LxOC_

"_Prologue"_

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"But-," I tried again, the hysterical panic evident in my tone. I was surrounded on all sides by thousands of people, pushing and pulling in an effort not to be late for their train. Struggling to keep my balance amongst the hoards of strangers, I kept my panicked gaze fixed on the adult standing before me; the one who was supposed to be my parent.

"No, listen to me," My father said frantically, his eyes scanning the crowd, "Here are your tickets," He said, handing me four pieces of papers with various things printed on it. "Take your brothers there and stay in hiding. Do not tell _anyone_ your real identity and keep away from anything concerning the police. In other words, stay as far away from society as you can." He instructed me as I listened with wide eyes.

"When will all this be over?" I asked, in a small voice, trying to hide the extreme worry and fright that was building up inside me.

I heard them both heave a sigh, "I don't know…," My father said, not meeting my eyes, "But I'll try….I'll try to end this as soon as possible." He said with a small smile at me.

"I can't believe you kept this from me…," I glared at him with all the force I could muster, but my entire attempt was foiled by the traitor tears, which began accumulating at the corner of my eyes.

"I'm sorry….," He gave a small sad smile before bringing up his hand to pat my head.

I laughed sarcastically, with the transparent black humor in my tone, "You're _sorry_..," I mocked him, "That's the only thing you can say can't you?"

His face showed no emotion at all; but I knew I had hurt him. Everyone showed emotion, even the slightest bit, through their eyes, and I could usually figure out what they were feeling through that one spot of weakness. But in my 18 years of existence, I had never been able to read my father.

But even through his calm façade, I could tell that my words had hit home; because living with someone or 18 years does give you a chance to know the person very well.

Shaking my head , I turned away from him, the dark smile still on my face. Being 18 years old, I was the eldest child in our family. I had three younger brothers, all of whom were still minors. My parents had been divorced ever since I had turned 16, and from then on my siblings, me and my father lived together.

We weren't excessively rich or poor; and in fact, life was getting by normally. That was, until my father's biggest secret was revealed. Of all the people in the world, I had thought that parents were supposed to be the ones who knew you best and vice versa. But apparently, that wasn't applicable in my case. I couldn't get close to anyone without being betrayed in one way or another.

Keeping a frown fixed on my face, I continued walking towards where I had left my confused siblings, as my thoughts revolved around what had just occurred. Yes, I had hurt my father even when it was the last thing he needed. If anyone decided to throw a bunch of foul profanities at my face, I wouldn't blame them. In fact, as the guilt began to set, I knew that I would actually agree with them.

But I couldn't bring myself to regret the things that I had said. He had been running back to the past; a sure of getting into trouble, and yet, he couldn't just let it go. Now, he had no choice but to run, leaving us alone in the world, until this matter was resolved. We had no one; nowhere; not anymore. I felt bad for telling him everything I had, but at the end of the day, I couldn't help but feel a little satisfied. Satisfied at having hurting him the way he was hurting us all.

It was inhuman, heartless and cruel. Absolutely, and it was impossible to deny. But I had never claimed to be saintly in the first place. I was heartless. I was cruel. I was inhuman- I was all of it. And even though I knew that, I couldn't wouldn't change.

At one point I halted. Turning around, I could spot my father in the midst of the crowd. He still hadn't left and continued to stare after me. Mustering the coldest glare I could produce, I mouthed three words to him.

"_I hate you."_

Without waiting for his reaction, I turned around.

And left.

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_A/N: Hello once again everyone. As you may well know, this is only a prologue, and therefore does not have L in it. I wouldn't blame you if you thought this chapter was boring, but I will try to make it much more interesting from here on out. Thankyou for sparing that half a minute or so to read it, but I would really appreciate it if you could spare a few more seconds of your precious time to leave a REVIEW regarding your thoughts on this. Thankyou._

_B O N-chan_


	2. Caught Red Handed

_A/N: I am happy to be putting up this chapter so early, but the credit for that goes fully to my awesome reviewers, **x.x and SasoLOVE111 **who kept me alive with their encouraging reviews. My sincerest thanks to you two. The chapter might be confusing at first, but please read on. And no, this isn't yaoi._

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Disclaimer: Death Note ©Takeshi Obata & Tsugumi Ohba

Blind © Our-Lady-B O N B O N

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_Blind…a LxOC story_

_Chapter One: Caught Red Handed_

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The harsh ear deafening screech of the alarm clock woke me up brutally, not to mention, made me another appointment at the ear doctor. Groaning loudly, I rolled over and tried to block out the horrid noise, knowing that I couldn't have possibly reached the clock from this far away- that being the sole reason I had placed it there.

Finding no peace, I finally got up to sit on the bed, rubbing my eyes fiercely as I tried to shake away the sleep. I hadn't had any luck with sleep these days, considering the fact that I had two jobs, neither of which paid a very desirable amount. The sky was still dark outside, with only a hint of light illuminating it.

As I walked slowly up to the clock and switched off the alarm, my eyes went to the calendar. 3rd August. It was my birthday.

Looking away from the big '8/3' printed on the paper, I went into the bathroom, brushed and changed within fifteen minutes. By the time I was out, the sky was already a much lighter shade. The clock informed that it was around 6 o' clock, which still gave me some time. I walked over to the table to fix myself some cereal.

Even though it had only been approximately six months since we had arrived in England and bought this small, cheap house, as I walked through the deserted hallways, it felt like I had done this for a long time. But six months in England still meant that my father was on the run; what was more, we barely ever heard from him. But at least we knew he was alright.

"Hey, man!" I heard a call from the Andy, the boy who delievered the local newspapers around town. He often made deliveries too, though that was quite rare. We lived in a secluded part of the already small town, with a population of only about a hundred people. It was quite convenient, since the local police station was around fifteen or so miles away.

Raising an arm to greet Andy, I walked outside to take the mail.

"You're up pretty early, ain't ya?" He asked.

"Yeah…but the hangover's killing me," I said, backing my words with a grimace.

"Too much to drink?" He asked with a grin, patting me on the back as I retrieved a newspaper from him.

"There's never 'too much to drink', ma'man," I said, playing out my part with an airheaded grin.

His response was to give a knowing grin before patting me on the back again and departing with a 'Catch ya later, dude!'

Waving, I turned around and went back into the house. Of course I hadn't had a hangover. I had never been drunk in my life. But even in the midst of friends I had to lie. I had to play my part. Because it wasn't just my life on jeopardy. Because not everyone was your real friend; no matter how convincing they may seem.

When you once lived in a great home, going to posh private schools, and then suddenly dumped by fate to go against the rest of the world, fending for yourself, you have a knack of learning that the hard way.

Going back into the house, I unfolded the newspaper and looked through it. Finding nothing of much interest, I simply settled for staring off into space. I was disappointed. That was plainly obvious, even to me. But why, I didn't know. Was it because I had expected some kind of sign that my father had remembered it was my birthday? I let out a small humorless chuckle. I had thought that I had abandoned that hope, but evidently, the proverb 'Hope springs eternal' seemed to have some truth in it.

Chuckling to myself in an empty room. That was never a good omen. Thinking to myself that I had finally lost it, I finished my meager breakfast, cleaned the table and prepared something for my brothers' lunches at school. Of course, all I had to do was heat most of it since they were simple to make things I had gotten at the market. Saying that I wasn't good at cooking would have been an understatement. The last time I had tried, I had blown up the kitchen; and giving my siblings food poisoning was the last thing I needed.

Once I was done, I went to call them from sleep so as to send them to their school. Chris, the second eldest in the family was in High School, while Avery and Alex, the twins were still in Elementary (or Primary, as they called it here) school. As I walked into the room they shared, I thought about the long day that awaited me. No one knew who I was. No one knew that I had turned nineteen years old today.

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"Make sure you come in early tomorrow!" I heard a call from behind me and I waved my hand airily with a 'Yeah, yeah, whatever," before going on my way. I had been held up at my morning job today, and had come in late at my second job...again. Exhaling a gust of air in a tired sigh, I began on my way home as I let out a large yawn. Today had been a tiring day indeed. I had done fairly to have been accepted into the university I had applied to, though I didn't consider it as much of an achievement considering the fact that the university wasn't exactly very prestigious or well known- that, on the contrary, being my primary reason for choosing it.

A cold breeze brushed past and I wrapped my arms around myself. The sky was overcast with some of the heaviest clouds I had ever seen. By the looks of it, a storm was approaching. Putting my hands in my pockets to protect them from the biting cold, I quickened my pace so as to get home faster. Hopefully, Chris had remembered to close all the doors and windows.

But whether Chris had actually done it or not, I never got to see, because the next thing I knew, someone had come up in front of me. He had a deep blue uniform with several gold and silver badges shining from his torso. I stood still, frozen on the spot, hoping above all hopes that he was just going to ask me for directions to the nearest city.

"Excuse me sir, but I will have to ask you to come with me."

Or not.

I didn't wait a second longer, since I had broken into a run. Sadly, I had never been much of a fast runner. And against the five cops who had suddenly ganged up on me, I stood no chance.

But that didn't mean that I didn't try. Because once I was caught, I struggled for freedom desperately, even managing to hit one of the cops on the head. Unfortunately, my efforts were proven futile, since the next thing I knew, there was a cloth held tightly over my face as I breathed in a strange smelling scent. And as, I continued to struggle, I could tell that my strength was fading.

Because before I knew it, I was falling head first on the ground, as the dark realm of unconsciousness claimed me.

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N A R R A T O R ' S P O V

"You've done a good job, Inspector Morton," An impassive voice commented as the person sat in his seat in quite an awkward frog like position. His pitch back hair rained down on his black eyes and set a great contrast against his unnaturally pale skin while dark circles lined the lower rim of his eyes as if he had suffered from insomnia. His pale hands held a small plate with a large piece of cake on it while he wore only a simple white full sleeved T-shirt and jeans.

"Thankyou, sir," The police inspector bowed respectfully at the man, "We couldn't have done it without you, of course."

The black haired boy made no reply to this comment and a grave silence descended upon the only two _conscious _occupants of the large white room.

The silence would have continued had the third person present in the room, not stirred. As the dark haired boy scanned the figure curiously, he uttered a groan before slowly opening his eyes.

Blinking his eyes a few times at the unfamiliar sight, the shock finally settled in. As the victim propped himself up hastily, a glower of pure loathing crossed his features.

"I demand an explanation for this sudden kidnapping!" He said in a croaky voice, coughing to clear his throat while the expression of utter disgust still there.

"Shut up, criminal," The policeman said, an equally hateful glare on his face.

"Criminal? What, walking on the street is even a crime now?" The victim retorted acidly.

"What did you say?" In a flash, 'Inspector Morton' had his fist at his throat, hoisting the 'boy' up by the collar of his shirt.

"If your deaf, you shouldn't take it out on other people," The boy responded with a fierce glare.

"You talk pretty big for an identity thief, not to mention, a suspect for murder." The older man glared.

"Inspector Morton, please let go of our suspect," An emotionless voice drawled out from behind the two people.

The policeman's immediate response was to comply, though he retreated his hand quite roughly. His victim's eyes shifted to the black haired boy sitting strangely on a the chair.

"Who are _you?"_

"Detective L," The black eyed boy replied, displaying no sign of hostility towards the boy despite his glower.

As soon as he heard the name, the previously unconscious 'boy's' eyes narrowed immediately.

"Judging from the look on your face, I am guessing you've heard of me," Detective L commented.

Of course he had heard of him. Ever since arriving in England, keeping tabs on all the cops and detectives was one of 'his' main jobs. Having read almost every article on famous law enforcer, knowing about L, the greatest Detective in the world, was child's play.

"Why am I here?" The boy asked, his glare not fading even a bit, though he seemed calmer.

"You don't have the right to ask anything!" The fuming Inspector's voice came from the end of the room.

"Please refrain from being hostile towards him, Inspector," L said, his gaze not shifting from the glaring young boy.

"Why should I be gentle with this ill mannered criminal suspect of a boy?" The policeman glared, clearly meaning it as a rhetorical question.

"Because, I've just realized that this _boy_-" He stopped in mid sentence, making his way towards the suspicious boy.

Once he had reached the suspect, his hands immediately went to the boy's honey blonde hair, and without any warning, he tugged, and pulled the wig clean off; only to reveal black hair with tints of brown as it spilled out and cascaded a little below her shoulders.

"-might actually be a _girl_," L ended, looking as if he was simply announcing the weather.

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_A/N: So what did you think? Lame? Boring? I really hope not. Thank you for sparing that minute or so to read this but please don't forget to leave a REVIEW telling me your opinions on this. Thankyou._

_-B O N-chan_


	3. ShellShock

_A/N: Ohaiyou Gozaimasu minna-san. My heartfelt gratitude to __**XxDark-maiden201xX, Are You Dizzy Yet**__ (I rewrote the last chapter to fix the mistakes you pointed out, by the way ^.^) __**, SasoLOVE111 and annee loves sasusaku **__for their awesome fuel inducing reviews. In case you haven't noticed, the first few chapters of the story are going to be pre-Death Note arc. I'm sorry if you find these chapters boring or slow, but bear with me please. :D_

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Disclaimer: Death Note © Takeshi Obata and Tsugumi Ohba

Blind © Our-Lady-B O N B O N

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_Blind….an LxOC fic_

_Chapter Two: Shell-shock_

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All I could do was stare at him with could only be defined as pure horror. He had mentioned that he had 'just realized' that I was a female. But I had only been here for only five or so minutes. So how was it that he had figured out within five minutes what other couldn't realize in six months?

As the shock began to wane, I realized that I shouldn't have been surprised. I doubted he was called the greatest Detective without being able to back it up. In fact, he dressed in the most simple clothes- which, perhaps gave him the advantage of going out in public without being suspected of his true identity.

My eyes immediately narrowed as I glared at him with utter hatred. His only response was to merely stare back with his signature poker face.

"Why am I here?" I asked, trying, in vain, to control my temper. I didn't know what time it was; or even if it was still the same day, but I needed to get back home as soon as possible. And I had a feeling that throwing temper tantrums wasn't going to help.

"Simon Rogers..," The word left the black haired detective's lips as he stared intently at me, observing my every action, "Are you familiar with that name?"

It took me only a split second to make up my mind. Deciding that denying it would be too obvious of a lie, considering who Simon Rogers was rumored to be, "The famous identity thief?" I asked, still glowering.

"Yes," L's reply was simple.

After waiting for about thirty seconds, I decided that he didn't have anything more to add.

"What does he have to do with me?" I asked and added something once I realized just how stupid it sounded, "I'm a girl, in case you haven't noticed."

"Yes, that does rule out the possibility of you being the notorious murderer and identity thief. However, the possibility of you being his accomplice, remains," He said, speaking in a monotone.

"I'm not his accomplice," I said simply, looking him right in his pitch black eyes.

His reaction wasn't something I expected. He simply walked away from me, in order to retain his original position and stance of sitting, which, to be honest, kind of creeped me out, though I didn't show it of course.

As I stared at him, I had no idea what he was thinking. He was like a big bowl of mystery. I couldn't even detect the slightest hint of emotion in his eyes, as my eyes followed him.

"And yet, an old lady and her husband were found dead this morning," He spoke suddenly and turned his eyes back to me, "You might know them as the Richardsons"

"Mr. and Mrs. Richardson are…. dead?" I asked, the shock breaking through my façade. Maggi and Jonathon Richardson were the landlords of the house we lived in. They lived in the nearest city, and though both of them didn't have a lot of money to run on, they had generously refused to accept any rent from me for the first two months, while they helped me look for a job. I couldn't honestly have been more thankful to them, so when I discovered the tragedy of their death, it felt like I had been crushed inside out. The prospect was horrid even to imagine.

"Judging by your expression, it looks as if you we uninformed on the matter," The dark haired boy commented, "Either because you are a very good liar, your accomplice hasn't told you of his murder….or you are telling the truth."

"I'm telling the truth," I said, firm on my point. Of course I was telling the truth. How could they possibly think that I was affiliated with one of the most notorious criminals in the world? Just because I was pretending to be a boy? Seriously?

"And yet, there seems to be no proof to reinforce your claim, " Detective L's glance wasn't accusatory; merely observative. In fact, whenever he looked at me, it felt like he was X-raying me; as if he could read my mind. The fact would have freaked me out; had I not had other more important things to worry about.

"Well there's no proof to deny my claim either," I retaliated.

"True," The black eyed boy said, popping a piece of cake into his mouth before continuing, "But we have discovered a set of fingerprints. I'm sure you wouldn't reject to providing us with your prints to see if they match?" His sharp eyes were fixed right on me, analyzing my every reaction. This was probably how he deduced whether the suspect was lying or not.

"Fine," I said, simply with my narrowed eyes. I aimed a glance at the policeman only to be awarded with the nastiest glare I had ever witnessed. Apparently, his previous shock had worn off; and now, he was convinced that I had committed the crime only because my attitude got to his nerves. You could tell he really wanted to lock me up.

Ten minutes later, I walked out of the small room where I had been asked to dip my fingers in black ink and press my finger print on a blank piece of paper. I was being escorted by two large looking men, in the same dark blue uniform as 'Inspector Morton.' Well, escorted wasn't exactly the right word considering the fact that they were probably there to stop me from attacking anyone in sight and massacring the whole place, that is, if I tried something as stupid.

I was considerably confident that my fingerprints wouldn't match. I hadn't been to the Richardson residence since about a month ago when I had gone to pay rent. There couldn't possibly have been any e_vidence_ left behind by me, that contributed to their murder. Of course there was always that small nagging part of my mind which kept saying 'what if it does match' but I chose to ignore it. I honestly didn't have _anything_ to do with Simon Rogers and his mysterious murders, and as honestly depressed I was about the death of two of the kindest people on Earth, the fact that I had to get home as soon as possible, was a more dominant worry in my mind.

The three of them were undoubtedly scared to death, especially the twins. We would probably have to move to somewhere else, change identities and live more carefully. As I was making up my mind about counting our savings as soon as I got home, I was led into the same white walled room.

However, exactly how much savings there was I never got to see, because standing in the middle of the room were my three, extremely terrified looking brothers. My feet stopped working in mid step as I took in their sights, the shock undoubtedly transparent on my face.

"Sewina!" I heard the twins squeak before they ran up to me. Chris was shocked, of course. I didn't blame him. I hadn't been _me_ for six months. And now suddenly, I was stripped of my fake identity.

I kneeled down and patted their heads comfortingly as they almost choked me with their death grip around my neck.

"Serena?" I heard an apathetic voice behind me and turned around only to be faced with the pale face of Detective L, "So that is your name." He stated, as I could only glare at him furiously. All I wanted was to live quietly and away from society until my father returned. But he had to go and ruin my life with his stupid research. At the moment, I could have said in all honesty, that I could never hate anyone anymore that I hated L.

"What exactly is your relation to these three?" He asked, not in a gloating manner, but in a way that made it sound like a challenge. As if he was asking me how I would weedle myself out of this one.

"They were abandoned children so I took them in," I replied; fully knowing that he would see through my transparent lie. However, he had nothing to _prove _that I was lying.

"I see..," He said, sounding thoughtful, "You have two jobs and you barely have enough money for yourself. And yet you insisted on taking in three children when the income barely sufficient for you?" He asked. I could only glare daggers at him; fuming in anger as I sent a message that said I absolutely _loathed _him.

However, I was spared from answering by the second shocking news of the day. And had I been given a choice of taking either, I would picked the black haired detective's question. Because what happened next was something I had never expected.

"Sir," I heard a voice and shifted my gaze to the doorway to witness a policeman standing there, looking quite uncomfortable.

"Yes?" L asked, merely questioning.

"The fingerprints are a match."

"_What?_" I couldn't help it. The feeling of utter astonishment, broke through my otherwise calm façade, as I stared at the policeman in utter shock. How was it possible? How could _my _fingerprints have matched the fingerprints related to the murder. It simply didn't make any sense _at all._

"And..," The policeman began speaking again, looking even more uncomfortable and hesitant as he watched our queer gathering.

"And?" L asked again, as I wondered what else could have been discovered.

"There has been another murder," He announced, "We're sending the pictures to your computer." He motioned towards the computer sitting on a table at the end of the room, just as the lights flashed and the screen brightened up. On the screen there was a writing 'You have a new message', flashing there as the black haired detective walked up to it. For once, I felt hopeful. If there was a new murder, that meant the chances of me being Rogers's accomplice was lowered.

"Raphael Collins, found dead in an empty alley way near the train station in Pennsylvania," He read out, and clicked on the image file. But as the image slowly assembled itself on the bright screen, I felt all the hopeful optimism being drained out of along with everything else.

Everything but despair; as all the colour left my face when I saw the picture of the man who had been murdered, the greatest shock of my entire life hitting me suddenly.

Because staring back at me with his dull, lifeless eyes with blood all over his frame, was none other than my father himself.

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_A/N: So what do you think? Any comments, suggestions, constructive criticism or praises can be left in the form of a much appreciated REVIEW. Just don't flame. _

_-B O N-chan_


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